


All she wants for Christmas

by TrekDr



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Actually total fluff really, Chakotay POV, F/M, Post-Episode: s07e25 Endgame (Star Trek: Voyager), Reconciliation, She can sing!, a drunk and maudlin Chakotay is no fun, its a good thing she is forgiving, post Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21793111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrekDr/pseuds/TrekDr
Summary: He left the ship with seven, proudly committed to be honourable. He had walled out counsellors who had tried to pry into his mind and destabilise the hard won fragile peace there. He shut out well meaning long time friends and his sister’s enquiries. He tried damned hard to commit to this desperately grasped at future, and apart from a madness that he shuts away, unable to contemplate, he succeeded. Well, thought he had succeeded.Moved across from fanfic.net though with a prune and tidyMerry Christmas
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Chakotay/Seven of Nine, Kathryn Janeway/Original Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 30





	All she wants for Christmas

Tom has clearly planned this party, he thinks entirely unsurprised. And planned it with Kathryn's love of sparkling holographic tickertape in mind, from the light reflecting billow of iridescence being scattered, a frenzied display of bad taste that somehow has become a voyager tradition. Over the top, loud, conspicuous celebration of continued existence against all odds. Brash. Comforting. Joyous.

In contrast, the outside of the venue is deeply peaceful and snow becalmed, shades of monochrome in varying greys bringing a welcome relief to a nervous mind. He takes a moment to enjoy the crispness, the quiet solitude. The freezing air he is unaccustomed too, and hufs a wry laugh as he recognises the symbolism he ascribes to his position... in the bleak midwinter. He also takes the moment to reflect that winter barrenness, icy clarity and stark beauty is not for him. Tempting as it is to hide everything under a cool and beautiful exterior, no view of the ugliness, failure or barrenness beneath, there is also no life here, no sign of spring. It is life in stasis. He doesn't really want such cool perfection, his heart has always gravitated to the summers vibrant warmth.

Through the wide veranda doors leading into the ballroom that warmth of light is beckoning him to rejoin. A welcome call of hope, love and family to be shared over christmas. Not just the in the golden glow, but also in the flickering around the windows of a multiplicity of small lights mimicking our stars, twinkling, inviting him to come closer. We are a family they say to him, joined in the distant stars, always yours to guide you home.

The people he loves and has missed are moving about inside, brightly coloured clothing leading to a kaleidoscope effect through the windows, constantly changing patterns, nearly clear enough for him to recognise until his eye is drawn by one. Red. Somehow always the centre of the activity, more brightly coloured shapes cluster around that patch of red as it moves. The queen of this family, the heart, his heart. It is time to be brave again and take his place. He knows that he will be welcomed, forgiveness here is unconditional. One day he will be teased mercilessly, but not today.

He moves closer, his feet ever sinking into the virgin snow hindering his progress as he is inevitably pulled back into her orbit. As he gets closer, escaping out into the peaceful gardens are the sounds of his family. Laughter, joy, friendship. He can hear the exuberant carols playing that symbolised Christmas on voyager. Kathryn had introduced him to the reflective Christmas melodies and understated decor of home and hearth, but for the voyage parties the music was as one with the decorations. It resonated joy.

He remembers the surprise of Voyager Christmas, eagerly adopted and adapted by Neelix, so desperate to find any joyful occasion to celebrate and bind the crew together. Shed of religion apart from these carols and more Christmas secular songs, and yet all the crew were singing loudly by the last Voyager Christmas. It was not only an act of solidarity, but also defiance against the universe for ripping them from their own local traditions. Neelix indulged in celebrating every tradition for every crewmember, alien species and those celebrations that surely must have sprung only from Neelix's own over imaginative mind. They were all enthusiastically received.

He finally stands outside looking in, drinking in the scene. He can feel the excitement thrumming, nervous tension, the drumbeat of destiny. This is the moment where finally, oh spirits thankyou, finally will begin to make things right. He takes this moment to pause and reflect on the pathway that has brought him here, snagged through a dark wood where the straight way was lost, with treacherous roots and no vision of the future. He gives himself a wry grin at the contrariness that chose this path that so nearly led to disaster, and did lead to heartbreak, treachery and broken promises. However, finally, unceremoniously, with the path widened by an un-expected rescuer pulling him out despite his contrary nature, he is here. The destination of his overwhelmed heart.

-0-0-0-

Sitting determinedly empty minded at the window in what had been their small apartment on Rigel 3, he had been drinking as much beer as required to keep his hands and throat in constant activity and try desperately to drown out the crescendo of activity and pain his brain was trying to shriek into consciousness. It had seemed that it might never be enough. He had never been much of a drinker, but these last few months had seen him drinking in ever larger quantities to drown out the present, the future and his brain. The ultimate conflagration of whatever their relationship had been had left a barren landscape as any seen in Dorvan after the Cardassian attack, or on Talaxia following the metreon cascade. The bitter dregs left were his to show for prideful misconceived honour and wilful blindness.

He had ignored the intrusive repeated comm, the multiple ignored strident entry request and finally desperately wished to be unaware of the override that brought *that* starfleet captain into his quarters. Tall, commanding and yet compassionate. He couldn't ignore the transporters, nor the involuntary release of the stomach contents over the same captain that transport had caused. It could have been humiliating, and now, in retrospect was, but at the time, the alcohol had done a number on all of his processes except the damn ones he was drinking to forget. No fool like an old fool. And he had been a fool twice over. More than twice, he had silently acknowledged, but particularly twice.

Having salved his calculating conscience with the correct mathematical formula for his foolishness, he skipped remembering the transport to sickbay, the repeat performance of highly liquid and technicolour ex-gastric contents to the same destination - what the hell do they put in beer on Rigel anyway? He also skipped the terse instruction to 'sober the bastard up' though not his outrage as he realised he has been kidnapped, resident now of a soulless starfleet sickbay. The only remediating factor being the absence of a holographic doctor. The smirking imbecile of an ensign was unfortunately not a huge improvement. He would have complained , or left, but his unbalanced lurching was ineffectual, and the now openly grinning blue coated whippersnapper unceremoniously threw him onto the biobed. Even his vocal chords had refused to comply. Comply. Damn, but even language was against him.

A hiss or two of the hypospray and he had been unwillingly dragged back into full consciousness again. Aware entirely of the disastrousness of his life choices, the empty void of his future life visualised and that painfully aware of humiliation that he had hoped to avoid.

He was handed clean casual clothing and taken to a small conference room. He tried really hard to not enjoy the sensation of home, being back on a starfleet ship. He tried really very hard not to see an imaginary Kathryn that his brain conjured, delighting in the stars streaking past. He tried pitifully hard to hate the man who had joined him. The Captain. Captain of the USS Mariner. She must have sent him. Despite his failings and betrayal, as soon as she knew, which was clearly before he had done, she must have sent him. Damn her he had thought without passion. Damn her for her care, but damn her more for sending her lover.

'she didn't send me' the piercingly perceptive captain's opening words, and he had looked unbelieving. 'she would have stopped me if she had known.' his heart had broke then again. damn it for its blasted steadfastness to Kathryn despite his worst intentions. 'she loves you' and there it was, beating again, hope had suffused him, even as he imagined this man was going to tell him to keep the hell away.

He had been wrong though. B'Ella had told him some time before, whilst berating him for 'being a targ, ptak, insufferably cruel and stupid man', all epithets that were unfortunately correct, that Kathryn had found a worthy man. he was funny, caring, clever, another philosopher, and above all 'put her first above all things despite knowing that she had given her heart to an imbecile of heroic proportions' something that even at the time had added extra shards of pain in the ice frozen excuse for a heart he carried with him. 'He was going to put 'our captain' back together if she let him, and the whole crew were hoping that she did'.

And even then, he, in stupidity, hadn't gone to her, confessing his monstrous foolishness and asking for forgiveness. No, full of pride and in retrospect an entirely misguided loyalty to a wrong decision that would inevitably hurt three, no perhaps four he now thought people rather than one, he had battled on trying to persuade himself and a suspicious Seven that he was proud of his choice. Just woeful, old man.

Then when she was captured... no, even now, he cannot go to those memories, locked away, and instead then had jumped to the safer memories of the home coming ball. She had arrived on the captain's arms, a tentative smile of happiness, slightly unsure of how the crew would react. Wanting their approval, acknowledging that perhaps she had chosen a partner.

it had been his first shocked realisation that she had been serious that she would try her damnedest to move on too. Not that he had expected or wanted her to do otherwise, but it had been much more of a blow than he could have imagined. Not only that she might trust and love again, but that it could be so soon. She could cast aside what they might have been so quickly when she had held onto Mark for years. He had realised later in such bitterness that it was his actions, his lack of faith that propelled her outwards.

the crew had obviously cheered her, both for getting us home, but also for the bravery of love. They celebrated her undaunted bravura in seeking to make the best future she could. They hugged her, shook his hand, and all tried not to notice how both Seven and he were far more stilted in their greeting, and both then made every effort to never meet again.

The next day, four months ago, he left with Seven for Rigel without a word to any of the voyager or real family, contacting no-one and being contacted by no-one until the day before his abduction. Stewing in his bitterness the circumstances of his own making. His self imposed exile justified ostensibly to ease either Kathryn's or Seven's adaption, he wasn't sure. cowardice that he could be unaware of her joy. Even then he had known the Captain would make Kathryn whole again, that it would work. He couldn't bear to have it confirmed as his own dreams disintegrated on their foundation of smoke and mirrors and incompatibility.

he had drifted off from the conversation and was brought back into that present by a rapping of pianists fingers on the unyielding conference table, the only sign of the barely contained passion hidden under the impassive starfleet bearing facing him.

'but i am giving you a third and final chance, Professor' he, his rival of sorts though uncontested, had looked at him fully, the rigidity of tension in his position.

'let me be crystal clear. She still loves you and she understood you. She has more capacity to forgive than you deserve.' It had seemed that the captain would have said more, and only an iron will restrained an angry but heartfelt outburst.

'The Voyager Christmas party is in 15 hours, we will make it at warp 8. ' he continued, the prepared script clearly enunciated 'You have between then and New years Eve to make her your final choice.' The disdain was poorly concealed for a man who had mis-stepped so often.

'Otherwise be in no doubt that I will offer her my choice. At the New Years Eve party, I plan to propose, she will say yes, and we will spend our life of laughter together and I will turn your love into a memory in her heart given time.' the captain had glared, biting out his final declaration

'don't doubt but that she does love me. Perhaps not the soul bonding shattering love she thought she would share with you, but laughter, happiness and uncomplicated pleasure' he stung at the thoughts of pleasure.

'but if you love, love her in the way she loves you... make it right' the last spoken softly. And then he had realised the enormity of the captain's love, that he would sacrifice his own chances for her greater happiness. Damn but he couldn't even hate the man.

He had been humbled, but his soft acknowledgment was brushed away. This gesture was not for him.

The captain had already turned abruptly and left. he was escorted to quarters. this time there was no quietening of his overactive brain.

-0-0-0-

Back in the present, I am pulled into a smile as the crew chants eagerly for Kathryn to sing. I can imagine her blushes, the self deprecating waves of her hand as she tries to decline. It will be in vain.

No one had heard her sing on voyager before that final nights celebrations. Knew that she could dance, but always supposed that her singing voice would be like her spoken, low and full of gravel, and more than likely toneless. And it did carry some of that with it, but it was powerful, capturing and deeply sexy. I snort at the thought, for me everything she did was in that category. She had once told me she never sang as it gave people the wrong impression. I had assumed that was because she sounded like a howling banshee. Not so. sultry whisky burn with power. I would never forget the first time we had all heard her sing on that holodeck, and i had realised completely my mistake. A final tricolbalt device. Target acquired and locked, fired and utter destruction. The centuries old words had such resonance as she had sung spreading her arms wide, about letting go, not being restricted by rules, promising that the perfect girl was gone. she never looked in my direction, though every dagger hit its mark. a song of power and challenge. The song of a queen, my queen. Damn him for not just throwing himself at her mercy then.

Contrary targ that I am.

Not this time though, I am certainly self aware as she starts singing, a much more joyful ballad about what she wants for Christmas. As a master tactition I slip in, my quietening finger to all that see me that this is a surprise. The crew smile an acknowledgement as I meet individual eyes, a glare from Chapman and harry, a quickly drawn breath from Sam. Icheb is stoic and even Vulcan in the gaze he gives me, giving nothing away. He need not try, how can i be unaware of his love for his adopted mother. I am aware that I need to spend some time with my own family too, discarded in my run to Rigel. I have a moment of concern, but Tom is there and nods. I will have an opportunity for my own reclamation.

I know she must feel my presence, as I hers, that connection becoming taut as we approach. Focusing on her, the smile and joy that is on her face, i hope it is because she knows that finally, the spirits help me, I have finally come home.

I can at last openly gaze on her, drink in the sight my eyes have been deprived of and I see that she has been well in my absence, filled out to a lush softness. She dances enthusiastically and with joyful abandon across the stage waving and blowing kisses randomly to crew, and particularly to Miral blowing bubbles back. No careful choreography here but carefree exultation, shoulders and hips making a delightful counterpoint, and I certainly hope that she shimmies some more. Twirling, her full calf length red skirt trimmed with white floats about her, showing the multiple netting underskirt. She is a pocket filmstar Santa.

But mostly I focus on her sparkling blue eyes and luscious red smile and feel an answering smile beam back. And as the song is coming towards the end I say quietly 'excuse me' and like the red sea parting, the way is completely cleared for me to stride forwards to Kathryn. Striding in the hope, but not expectations that she will at least forgive me. That I can rejoin our family and maybe reconnect our friendship. Despite my Christmas benefactor I hesitate to hope that my love is still reciprocated, or that we can put the chasm of my folly behind us to start afresh. But the spark is there, surreptitiously hoping and pressing me forwards.

kathryn throws her head back as she blasts out the end, her auburn curls mostly breaking free of the loose upstyle she has tamed them in. I am spellbound and penitent at her feet as she unexpectedly points to me, the erstwhile object of her Christmas desire. Then, before you can even turn that gesture into hope she impetuously, trusting to my reflexes, throws herself off the stage into my waiting arms. As she publicly and unequivocally chooses me, still.

No words. My heart barely dares to beat, my breath is caught in my chest as we hover at the cusp. She looks up to me as she gently twirls her fingers in my hair, smiling openly, love and a question in her deep blue eyes. Her demeanour that of a lover not just friend. Our happiness waits only for my move, my unconditional surrender.

I lean down and softly but purposefully place the lightest of kisses on her lips, as gentle as a snowflake alighting on a winter flower, and yet it creates a permanence between us. I feel the world pause and then settle around us, as if a great truth has finally been achieved. We are whole again. A world of desperate misunderstanding consigned to history and forgiven.

Smiling we break apart to scattered applause, and then as a rollicking Irish ballad I do remember is played we slip into a dance. A world away from the stiff uncomfortable dance forced from us unwillingly at the Homecoming ball, this is all curves, smiles, twirls and increased daring over just how close we can get. She tamed my happy yet unruly heart with a touch.

As the irishman drunkenly delivers his song 'This year's for me and you, So happy Christmas I love you baby' I have to grin at her. After all this is perhaps what I am hoping for our next year. I can finally make good my promise to be by her side, and perhaps, once we have talked and truly settled the past, maybe add some new promises for cleaving together.

as he finishes 'Can't make it all alone, I've built my dreams around you' the song catches me and the recent despair washes up to me. I have been less than myself without her, and sunk further than I would ever believe. I struggle to breathe at the pain and she smiles back reassuringly at me, a kiss of such sweetness follows. Our dreams are truly held together now. We can heal together, love and laugh together. Forge those dreams.

The pop ballads of that 20th century take over as we move closer together. I draw her back into a firm embrace as she lifts up her chin in anticipation. My ebullient Kathryn has never been one to indulge over long in thoughtful whimsy when she can take a more direct approach. This time she has me in her sights, the peace treaty is negotiated and it is time to surrender to her. She and I are ready to consolidate this accord of happiness.

My joyful smile starts to flicker into arousal as i move towards a kiss. This kiss is again gentle, a kiss of redemption. This kiss is an acknowledgement of unwavering love, commitment and joining. I finally cannot hold back as her mouth opens, huffing a moan and she nibbles at my lower lip. I bring myself to kiss back, and by the denied spirits do i kiss back, with triumphant joy. Feeling her return my love as passionately as I have ever dreamed. We are falling together through the event horizon into the singularity. i hold happiness and peace in my arms, and i will not be letting this go. Against all the odds, I am standing here with my dreams made flesh, my hopes and desires incarnated. I am whole again.

She, that most wonderful of women, compassionate and forgiving of this wounded soul, pulls me closer and shifts one hand to directly over my heart. I am branded by the touch, it sets me afire. I trace down her spine with my fingers and finally nestle my hand against her. I hold her firmly to assure myself that this is finally real, no dream or illusion but fantasy made flesh. I need to feel her ever closer, subsume our individuality Into one living breathing duality, two hearts that beat for each other, two minds teasing and cherishing each other, two bodies to pleasure each other. One soul. We will never be alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> One day i might write the story that is in my head around the madness that chakotay tries not to remember.


End file.
